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Rosie and Craig decide they'd better do it and get some wotsits, before
the world ends on March 17. They sit on the sofa looking
uncomfortable and decide, perhaps, it's best if they don't, you
know, do it, because there's a chance that the Goth website is
wrong and the world might not end after all. Craig takes
his leave from the Webster's front room with the unopened wotsit
in his pocket and walks outo onto the cobbles and into Tommy's
fist, knocked out flat. Tommy had just finished an argument
with Angela after finding out Katie had failed all her exams and
he vented his anger on his son, giving Craig the slap he wanted
to, but couldn't, give Katy. As Craig falls to the
ground, the wotsit falls from his pocket and much shouting goes
on in the Harris' house. Craig does his best to explain that nothing
happened but Tommy takes some convincing that his 14 year old son
isn't going to end up a teenage parent just like his sister.
Tommy storms round to tell Sally what's happened and Sally demands
to know where the wotsit came from (I'm being as direct as the
dialogue was here. I think it's termed euphemism - or is that a
brass band instrument? I'm never sure). "I took it from your
handbag" wails Rosie before Tommy left the house, blushing and
Sally stood there, speechless. Sally tells Rosie she'll be
in enough trouble with Kev as it is so there's no need to mention
the handbag incident and she calls round on Tommy to tell him the
same thing.
Meanwhile at Davenport motors, there's more doing it with wotsists
for Sally and Ian. Sally's sure Ian's wife knows what's going
on although he tells her she's being paranoid, as he unzips her,
staples her to his office desk, highlights some areas he'd like
to cover in more detail and then files correspondence away in
the in-tray.
Although both Dev and Sunita stood for nomination to President of
the trader's association they both lose out to the baker Diggory
Compton who wins the presidency by only 4 votes. Fred reckons
voters were swayed by his banoffi meringue tart. Hey, it'd work
for me.
It's Sarah's 18th birthday and Martin takes her to visit baby Billy's
graveside. Martin says Billy deserves a headstone and offers
to buy one. Scooter gives her an antique picture frame he
found on the skip and a silver bracelet he bought, then turns up
with a pond liner and offers to install it in the back garden.
Gail has a quiet word with Sarah about precautions and protection.
"We know what we're doing, we're being careful!" says Sarah, shocked.
"I meant the pond!" says Gail, concerned about Bethany falling
in and drowning. But Scooter's got that covered too and offers
to cover it. And the pond too.
Chesney's heartbroken at losing Schmuckle (it's no good, I'll
never be able to spell it right, I've given up trying) and even
a visit from Monica doesn't cheer him up. Cilla tells Chesney it'll
find it's own way home to which he replies: "It's a Great Dane
mam, not a homing pigeon". Cilla's sold the dog to her mate
Yana from the bingo for £100 and she's reluctant to return
it as she's having men chat her up when she takes the dog out
for walks (it happens girls, really, it even happened to me although
the chat up lines did involve worming tablets and fleas).
Yana wants £200 if she's to hand over the dog so Cilla makes
a ransom note and pretends it's fallen through the letter box while
everyone else was out dog-hunting. It reads: "£250
or the dog gets it". "Gets what?" asks Kirk, smelling of
putty.
The book club work their way through saucy novel Hard Grinding
and Emily's dismayed to find her copy of the book has had
pages 172-173 stuck together after Norris finished reading it.
She's determined to find out what he's trying to keep from her
and accuses him of censoring the fun bits as she's a woman of the
world and has been around a bit after all. Turns out Norris was
doing her a big favour after all because the story on pages 172-173
was about a book-keeper shot dead in his office when two intruders
break in. She's touched by Norris' concern but tells
him she doesn't need his protection. Or a pond liner. Or a wotsit.
And that's just about that for this week.
Glenda
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